


I'll Pass

by Cheshagirl



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hate to Love, generally try to keep it gender neutral but i didnt for this rip, i think there will be at least one chapter with smut, lefou and stanley appear to help them get their shit together, reader goes by she/her pronouns im sorry, uh yeah i wrote this a while ago and still need to finish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 14:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshagirl/pseuds/Cheshagirl
Summary: Belle got her man, LeFou got his man, will Gaston get his girl? Probably but you'll have to read through a lot of fluff and shenanigans to get there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> God I wrote this last year and never finished due to health problems. Ill work on the last few chapters, which should have some smut.
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it, or don't! Critiques are always welcome!

“Y/N!” 

You stiffen, hands hovering over a muffin as dread seeps into you. You squeeze your eyes shut in hopes that the familiar call is just your mind playing tricks on you for being up so early. To your disappointment, it's not. 

“Y/N, I thought I'd find you here!” The deeply masculine voice seems to echo through the town square, though it goes mostly ignored by ears that have heard it many times before. 

“And why’s that Gaston?” You sigh, finally picking up your muffin and passing a few coins to the baker's hand. 

“Well, I've memorized your routine… or, most of it anyway,” Gaston says proudly, following behind you as you walk away from the bakery. 

“Oh? And can you tell me where I'll be going next?” You ask though it's laced with annoyance and sarcasm. 

“Mm, most likely the flower stall, you fancy those white daisies and blue forget me nots.”

“Wrong!” You cry, whipping around and taking some satisfaction at the look of surprise on his face. “I'll be going to the…”

You quickly find yourself scrambling for a place in your head as Gaston had, in fact, been correct about your next destination and favorite flowers. Your mind, previously focused on an escape route, suddenly reels at the realization. 

“How did you know that?” You ask. 

Gaston had been pursuing you for a while now, five months to be exact. When Belle ran off and married the prince, Gaston had fallen into a deep depression that not even LeFou’s lovely singing could cheer up. It seemed he'd be destitute the rest of his days, that was until he laid eyes on you. You had the privilege of being a well-educated woman who had moved here after your parents passed and you found no more interest in the city around you. You were somewhat well off and made a living making art and sewing. When you'd strode through the entrance to little Villeneuve like you could take on the whole town, you quickly gained attention. You did not only visit the castle to paint or sew for the prince but to also read and chat with Belle. You two had become fast friends, and you'd also earned the title of being weird by association, not that you minded. That was until word got to Gaston and he had to see for himself so he made it his mission to track you down. And track you down he did, he cornered you one day and you were… _overwhelmed_. 

Never had you been courted, and never had you met a man so full of himself. Were it not for his personality you could've found yourself extremely attracted and distracted by his beautiful features. You learned from Belle how persistent he could be and despite all your best attempts to lose his interest, Gaston refused to leave you be. Had it been anyone else, maybe you'd have been flattered by his attempts, and maybe you'd understand how he knew your favorite flowers. But this was Gaston, he cared about nothing other than himself and conquering you. 

“As I said, I’ve been memorizing your routines and I noticed you looked at those flowers every time you stopped at the stall.” Gaston explains. 

You're a little caught off guard by his surveillance but you won't let that cloud your judgment. Huffing, you turn around and continue your walk to the flower stall. As usual, Gaston is right on your heels like an attention-starved puppy. 

“So I was thinking–”

“How dangerous.”

“You and I could have dinner tonight. I'll bring my latest kill for you to cook and we can discuss our relationship.”

You take a deep, slow breath as you try to bite back your frustration. Gaston was so oblivious and couldn't look further than his own feelings to see how his words may affect others. He simply expected you to swoon and fall at his feet, then fill his house with little boys and do nothing but keep him happy and charmed. And you would do no such thing. Your parents lived as equals, each doing just as much as the other and working hard to keep each other happy. You would not fall into a marriage where you were the only one working and giving. You realize Gaston is still going on about what you two could do later as you near the flowers, so you interrupt, “I can't have dinner with you tonight. Or any other night for that matter.”

Gaston pauses, eyes searching your face before asking, “Did you have prior engagements?”

“No, Gaston.” You sigh out, beyond annoyed and wanting nothing more than to vanish into thin air. “I simply don't enjoy your company and would prefer to eat alone.”

Your bluntness catches him off guard, and you smirk slightly at this minor victory. He opens his mouth to speak again, eyes glinting with a hint of triumph, as though whatever he'd come up with would change your mind. So you stop him before he speaks. 

“While I appreciate this–” You gesture with your hands, trying to find the word. “Persistent game of yours to see when I'd give in, I find it rather annoying and would like it much more if you went after some other girls. Like the Bimbettes, they're quite lovely after all, and would love to cook your meals.”

You turn away before Gaston can say anything, and start looking at the flowers. Your fingers caress the petals of a poppy with the tenderness of a mother. The old woman running the stall smiles at you and starts up the daily conversation of how you should look into gardening and maybe becoming a florist like herself. After all, she couldn't live forever and her flowers would need a gentle hand to take care of them. As you laugh and politely decline, saying maybe when you're older, you notice her eyes flit nervously over your shoulder. You glance over your shoulder to see Gaston is still there, only standing and silent as he watches you. His eyes are narrowed in thought and your skin prickles. With a hiss, you straighten up to look up at him. 

“If I went to see you tonight at the tavern, would you leave me alone?” You growl. 

Gaston jumps slightly, caught by surprise and blinking to clear his thoughts. He quickly begins to nod before blurting out, “That would be wonderful.”

“And you'll leave me alone after this? No flowers, no following me around, no obnoxious bragging?” You fold your arms, hoping to make your message as clear as possible. 

This was a single, one-time date. It would never happen again and after this Gaston would have to move on. 

“I…” Gaston reaches up to smooth back some of his raven hair that threatens to fall loose. 

He almost looks nervous, like he's debating whether or not to take the offer. 

“I haven't got all day, Gaston.” You snap, wishing for him to make up his mind and move on. 

“While that sounds delightful,” Gaston starts, though something in his tone makes you worry. “I'm afraid I'll decline.”


	2. I'll Pass | Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston declined your offer, much to everyone's surprise. Then he starts to leave you alone... What's happening to this little town?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright cool! you finally come to terms with your feelings! I feel like this is maybe a bit rushed.
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it, or don't! Critiques are always welcome!

The days following Gaston’s surprising decline of your dinner were… _different_. To say you were astonished was an understatement. When he told you he'd rather ask you to dinner and have you genuinely accept the request instead of making it a one-time thing to get him off your back you had stood there, mouth agape and positively frozen with shock. The market around you, or at least the people close enough to hear, had gone silent as well. After an uncomfortable amount of time with no reaction from you, Gaston had kissed your knuckles, bid you adieu, and left. 

Now you continued your routine, just, differently. At first, Gaston didn't appear by your side as much. You had some time to enjoy yourself but you found you couldn't. You were defensive and stiff, expecting him to jump out of thin air and hound you for dinner again. Eventually, he started to show up more frequently, only sometimes he'd stop talking about himself mid-sentence and ask you something about yourself. Or he'd greet you and simply walk in silence, observing you. Some part of you appreciated this, another part worried. It worried when you saw him talk to another woman, or when the Bimbettes followed him and cried for attention. You realized you were scared you'd lose his attention. After so many months avoiding him, snapping back, and even ridiculing the other girls who stared at him with big eyes, you were beginning to do the same thing. It never occurred to you that you might've just been playing hard to get and that you might've played just a little _too_ hard.

Finally, sick of being confused and letting your worry fester inside, you marched into the castle and sought out Belle. It wasn't hard, she was reading in the library, with the prince beside her. They looked up as you entered, face flushed and screwed with anger. Prince Adam shivers with fear, casts a glance at Belle, and quickly leaves the library. Belle marks her place and waits patiently as you slump, overdramatically, into the previously occupied chair. 

“Belle!” You cry, throwing your head back. “What am I going to do?”

“Does this perhaps have something to do with Gaston?” Belle asks, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. 

“It has everything to do with Gaston!” Your voice is laced with despair so genuine, Belle starts to actually worry. “One moment he's hounding me to go to dinner and marry him and cook for him, the next he's giving me space and asking about me. _Me_ , Belle.”

“Wait, wait, start from the beginning,” Belle interrupts before you can rant any further. “And try not to get riled up.”

With what seems like one breath, you quickly tell Belle what had transpired. Your arms move wildly and voice raises octaves as you recount the tale, and Belle has to mask her concern at your appearance. Your face is red and there are bags under your eyes, as though you'd slept fitfully for several days. Your hair is strewn up into a lazy bun, much different from the neat hairdos you preferred when working. As you finish, you're out of breath and looking at Belle with watery eyes. 

“I don't know Belle.” You say, so softly Belle nearly misses it. “I thought I'd be happy if Gaston ignored me, but now I fear I want his attention.”

Belle clears her throat. She's not entirely sure what to say for once. You two had so often made fun of him and his group of fans, and you had complained so much about his persistence, Belle never actually thought she'd be in this position. But from what you had described, this certainly was not the same Gaston that had tried countless times to marry her. And Belle had to admit, this worried her a bit too. 

“Well,” She starts, picking her next words carefully. “It sounds to me you need to talk with him, privately.”

You know what she means when she raises her eyebrows and it fills you with nerves. You begin to shake your head and say, “Oh Belle, I can't. I just can't, not after what I've gone through to stay away from him.”

Belle sighs. She rubs the bridge of her nose before retorting, “Maybe you should've thought of that before you went and fell for him. You know talking to him is the only way to positively figure out your feelings. Maybe this is all just you being over dramatic from the sudden loss of his overbearing presence.” 

You breathe deeply, biting your lip and picking at your dress. “Yes, yes… I suppose so.” You whisper mostly to yourself. 

You stand, starting to move toward the door. You begin to nod, saying, “Yes, alright, I'll go talk to him.”

Belle bids you good luck and sees you to the main doors, where you leave, still silently encouraging yourself. When you mount your horse Belle takes a good look at your face. Your eyes are narrowed in concentration and your lips move gently as you murmur. As you turn away Belle quickly calls out, “Don't be afraid to spruce up a bit, just in case.”

You glance sharply at her, frowning, and Belle waves with a grin as you spur your horse into a run. She sighs, finally letting worry settle on her features when a hand settles on her back. Jumping, she turns to see Adam, who smiles down at her. Belle leans into him and whispers, “I'm afraid how she'll handle this.”

“She's a big girl, she can take care of herself just fine.” Adam reassures. 

“Yes but, we all saw this coming, didn't we? Shouldn't we have warned her?” Belle responds. 

To this, Adam has no answer. Belle was right, the signs were there and everyone saw them except for you. The nights you spent hours talking about Gaston and the way you seemed to light up when he was mentioned. Your mind did its best to shield you from your true feelings, but they were coming around to bite you. 

“She'll be fine,” Adam says. “She'll be fine.”


	3. I'll Pass | Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Gaston need to have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok the POV is kind of shifted here so I apologize for that.
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it, or don't! Critiques are always welcome

“She's different.”

“Like Belle?”

“ _Nothing_ like Belle!”

LeFou looks down at Gaston from his perch on the arm of Gaston’s chair. They were having yet another conversation about Y/N, the girl who had put Gaston into a tizzy that not even Belle had managed. LeFou had found out about what had transpired with Y/N and Gaston from Stanley, and needless to say, LeFou was befuddled. His longtime friend was not known to back down from his goals, and certainly not when it came to a lady that caught his attention. When LeFou first saw Gaston after hearing the news, the first words out of his mouth had been along the lines of, _what are you thinking_? And each time LeFou asked, Gaston, answered with, “I don't know.”

This only served to annoy LeFou further, especially when he couldn't seem to pry any information from Gaston. But Gaston had no information to give. He was just as confused as the rest of them, and it fueled an angry fire in the pit of his stomach. After Y/N had offered him a dinner and he'd declined, he'd spent most of his time in the tavern, drinking, and thinking. A deadly combination, especially mixed with his frustration. He should've accepted her invitation and he should've let that be that. But something in himself stopped him from accepting, told him if he did accept, he would be angry for doing so. He searched himself for what had stopped him and why it had stopped him but came up empty. 

“LeFou,” Gaston calls, causing LeFou to flinch from his loud tone. “I wanted to accept her invitation, I did but–”

“But…?” LeFou presses as Gaston pauses, thinking. 

“It felt wrong.” Gaston decides. “I don’t want one dinner with her, and I don't want to leave her alone.”

Now they were getting somewhere, finally. LeFou nods, “So you want to court her? Officially?”

The thought of actual, official courtship had never occurred to Gaston, not even with Belle. Women fell at his feet and he could break their hearts with a bat of his eye. Even while pursuing Belle, he found it was mostly for pride, to prove he could have any girl, even the one that refused his advances. With Y/N, he felt something different. Every time she turned him down, rather bluntly, he found himself faltering and, dare he say it, hurt. He thought getting her to accept one dinner would help, but he found the prospect of leaving Y/N alone saddening. Something about watching the way she paid such gentle care to flowers or the way she bit her lip while working appealed to him. Gaston liked observing her. He liked the way she smiled, the way she painted, the way she sewed, the way she talked, hell even the way she so nonchalantly ignored him. The more he watched her the more he found he wanted to learn about her. Which is probably why he stopped talking about himself when he was around her, deciding maybe a change in tactics would be better. 

“Gaston?” LeFou calls, snapping his fingers to draw Gaston’s attention. 

“What?” Gaston snaps, annoyed at the interruption of his thoughts. 

“So do you want to court her?” LeFou repeats. 

Gaston hesitates, taking a deep breath before he starts to speak up, but is interrupted when the tavern door slams open. It bangs on the wall and everyone turns to the stairs, falling silent as hurried footsteps approach. Down comes Y/N, looking as magnificent as ever despite her windblown hair, and her pinched face. As she storms through the crowd, several people begin to whisper. Gaston straightens up in his chair as he realizes she's stalking directly toward him, gaze narrowed and annoyed. She stops before him, the toes of her shoes just brushing his. Gaston has to look up at her from this close, but it's not much and he finds himself smirking despite the flutter in his stomach. 

“Bonjour, Y/N, how are you?” LeFou greets, he smiles warmly at her to which she quickly nods back. 

“Gaston we need to talk.” She hisses. 

“Finally want to marry me? Or have you come to see how wonderful I am?” Gaston boasts, grin broadening. 

“No.” She snaps curtly. “It's important and I want to speak privately.” 

Gaston’s smirk falters and he casts a glance to LeFou, who shrugs and moves to stand. Gaston follows suit, forcing Y/N to step back and look up at him. Gaston straightens his jacket and sweeps back his hair. 

“Alright, let's go.” Gaston offers his arm but it's left hanging as Y/N turns and hurries to exit the tavern. 

He has to jog to catch back up with her but when he does he finds her starting to mount her horse. 

“Whoa, slow down!” Gaston calls, holding out a hand. “What's the hurry?” 

“Just get on your horse and meet me at my house.” 

Gaston is left blinking and breathless as she spurs her horse into a gallop in the direction of her house. He jumps when LeFou approaches and says, “She's got you wrapped up tight around her finger doesn't she?”

“I….suppose so.” Gaston says, rather breathlessly before he hops up on his horse and starts off to follow.


	4. I'll Pass | Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You two are finally alone and must come to terms with how you feel for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house, we talk through our feelings and work things out like adults.
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it, or don't! Critiques are always welcome

By the time Gaston knocks on your door, you'd had time to make some tea and relax, though you don't, instead opting to pace back and forth in front of the door. His knock startled you and you call for him to let himself in, which he does so hesitantly. He peers around the slightly opened door as though he's entering a cave of a sleeping bear and fears he'll awaken it. He spies you standing before him and smirks, but you can tell it's forced and nervous. 

“So,” He starts, pushing past the door and shutting it behind him. “Why did you call me here?”

“Well, I–” You abruptly stop, rocking on your feet in front of Gaston before hurrying into the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

Gaston follows you, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. You jump when you see him standing by the table and nearly drop the kettle. You scurry toward the table where two cups sit and quickly fill them. 

“Sugar?” You ask, already dropping one into yours. 

Gaston shakes his head and watches as your hand hovers over his cup, shaking and threatening to drop the lump of sugar in. You blink before quickly putting the sugar away and banging your cabinets shut. You grab a rag, drenching it in the water bucket in the corner and wringing it out. Gaston shifts before slowly lowering into the seat. He watches as you hurriedly scrub at the table tops and mutter to yourself. You're nervous, incredibly nervous. So nervous you're not sure how to begin, and your hands shake if left idle. Your mind wanders quickly from one topic to the next, dancing around the line of the actual conversation you want to start with Gaston. You realize with a jerk you're being extremely rude to your guest, however frustrating he may be to you. You whip around and hold the towel to hopefully steady yourself. 

“Are you alright?”

He says it so softly, with his hand reaching out slowly like to quell a frightened animal. You shouldn't flinch when he says it but you do. 

“I'm – I’m fine! I'm actually just –”

You're interrupted when he stands abruptly and says, “Anyone could see you're clearly uncomfortable, so I'll take my leave. Talk to me tomorrow when you're calm.”

He says it politely, walking over to you and placing a gentle, barely there kiss to the top of your head. You're left frozen for a few moments as he makes his way toward the door. 

“Wait!” You cry, heart pounding. 

You can't believe such a small gesture had you so weak yet here you are. His hand on the door, Gaston looks at you expectantly. You can see his eyes flit toward your lips when you wet them and you squeeze your hands tightly. 

“I think…” You clench your jaw. “I think I may be in… love with you.”

You see Gaston tense as he registers your words and for a brief moment, you're afraid. Afraid that it was not love that he'd been after, but something more primal and less permanent. You're beginning to tear up when a smile lights up his face. You don't have time to react before he's scooping you up in his arms and letting out the loudest laugh you've ever heard from him. You look at his face and he looks so genuine, so happy, that you can't help but mimic his grin. 

“Oh, my dear, you have no idea how much I've longed to hear that from you.” He murmurs. 

One of his hands travels up to the back of your neck and tilts your head forward. You gasp, eyes fluttering shut as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. It's soft and undemanding, so very different from Gaston himself, but you melt in his arms, dropping the towel to clutch the lapels of his jacket. Too quickly, he breaks away and stares at you, eyes roaming your face. 

“You… feel the same then?” You ask, anxiety dancing under your skin. 

“Well of course!” Gaston laughs. “Why else would I have spent so long thinking of you, trying to figure out the right way to woo you?”

“Careful Gaston, too much thinking may lead to trouble.” You tease, absently running a hand through his ponytail, rubbing across the ribbon. 

“I don't think I'd mind if it was with you.” Gaston replies, a soft blush coating his face. 

You're struck breathless at his words, never believing he could be so sweet but here he is, making your heart flutter. 

“Well,” You begin, face heating. “I suppose I wouldn't mind either.”

Gaston grins and you're pulled in again for a soft kiss. Maybe Gaston wasn't so bad after all.


	5. I'll Pass | Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your feelings are revealed your relationship begins to blossom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I hate writing summaries?
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it, or don't! Critiques are always welcome

It doesn't take long for the whole town to find out Gaston is officially courting you. Even Belle and the others at the castle find out surprisingly quickly. You suspect it has something to do with LeFou and Stanley but choose not to question it. You're happy, Gaston’s happy, the rest of Villeneuve is happy (except the Bimbettes but you know in time they'll get over it) so you figure some gossip is harmless. Your routine changes slightly since your confession, not that you mind, Gaston has actually somewhat changed his approach to a more reasonable one that you can't help but admire. You wake up and usually find a gift from Gaston or the man himself waiting for you at the doorsteps every morning. If you're lucky enough to greet Gaston you two would travel to town, making small talk as you peruse the bakery then make your way to the florist. 

Every day the elderly woman tries to get you to start your own garden or help her out at the shop and every day you politely decline, though Gaston has started to help the woman in her efforts claiming, “It would suit you” and “You'd look adorable gardening and getting dirt stains on yourself.” 

You're not sure how dirt stains could look attractive but you ignore it and tell them you don't have the time, tools, or money to start your own garden and your work at the castle takes up too much of your time. And it's true, as tempting as the flowers are, you only have this limited time in the morning to buy yourself some essentials, ride to the castle, and start your work which usually ends late at night. Gaston's asked you once or twice how sewing and painting could possibly take so long to which you told him you also helped wash the clothing and occasionally cook or clean, and the prince always seemed to have a few odd tears in his clothes.

(You’d brought this up to Belle, asking what he did to his suits every day and she only laughed, blushing. Soon after you caught her and the prince sneaking out into the woods one night with a bottle of wine and a basket.)

(You didn't press the subject any further.)

Of course, after you and Gaston have finished your morning routine, you walk him to the tavern where he'll either spend the day running it or leave and hunt for a few hours. With a goodbye kiss, you mount your horse, which Gaston now let you keep in the stables behind the tavern, and head to the castle. At the end of the day, you stop by the tavern and he's always there, without fail, to walk you home. The night always ends with him whispering endearments to you as he kisses you goodnight, and departs for his house. 

Today was like any other day, and like any other day, your mind drifted to Gaston as you approached the castle. He was so gentle and loving in the privacy of your own homes, while he had to be the center of attention, and loud and boisterous in public. You still had yet to ask him about this behavior, and you worried it may be something he'd gained from the war, another thing you worried might be affecting him. As you hurry to your study, you run into Mrs. Pots, whose face is flushed and she's panting. 

“Oh, dear!” She cries, looking relieved to see you. “Just the person I was looking for! Belle needs to see you.”

You sigh, knitting your eyebrows before replying, “Can this wait just a moment? I need to finish the painting Adam requested and I've only got a corner left.” 

Mrs. Pots quickly shakes her head. Her lips are pressed into a thin line and she turns your shoulders in the direction of Belle’s room. “No, she said it was urgent.”

You roll your eyes but make your way toward the princesses room anyways. She probably had ripped her favorite dress out in the rose hedges again or wanted to discuss her favorite book with you. You knock on her door before entering, looking around for her. 

“Belle?” You call, suddenly feeling rather anxious at the lack of a bookworm in the room. 

“Y/N? I'm in the washroom!” 

You hurry toward the washroom conveniently built into Belle’s room and gasp when you see her. Her face is pale, and she's leaning over the toilet, panting. Hair sticks to the sweat on her forehead. You kneel beside her and brush back her hair. Dread fills you and you fear the worst. 

“What's wrong Belle? How long have you been sick?” You query, wetting a washcloth with cold water and placing it against her forehead. 

“I've been getting sick for about a month.” She answers and you reel. 

“What?! And all this time you didn't tell me? Or anyone else?” You snap. 

You knew your friend was stubborn, but this was serious and the fact she thought it didn't warrant any worry from anyone ticked you off. 

“You have to take care of yourself, Belle! You can't–”

“I went to the doctors.” Belle interrupts. “I'm pregnant.”

You fall silent, then smile softly. “I can make some bigger clothes if that's what you're worried about. Have you told Adam?”

“No, I plan to I just… don't know how.” 

“I'm sure he'll be ecstatic. Now, let's get you washed up and running again.” You smile, helping Belle stand. 

As you help her make herself presentable again and plan how to announce her pregnancy, your mind finds itself at Gaston again. He'd talked about children, and often, but had never pressured you to go beyond a soft kiss. You briefly wonder what it would be like to wake up every morning besides Gaston, getting up and starting breakfast as he rounds up several boys, and maybe one or two girls. Your face heats up at the image, and you can't seem to stop smiling even on your way home. By the time you're at the tavern you've managed to get your smile under control, but when you lay eyes on Gaston, your pulse quickens and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He smiles at you when you approach and wraps an arm around your waist, quickly pulling you into his lap to greet you with a warm kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck as you sigh into him, tasting the warm whiskey on his lips. 

“How was your evening, my love?” He murmurs. 

His breath tickles as he presses gentle kisses to your neck and you hum, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasant feeling. 

“Normal – well, mostly normal.” You say vaguely, smirking when he stops and waits for you to continue, which you don't, hoping to get him to make that pouty face when he wants something. 

Gaston doesn't disappoint, asking, “What made it different?”

You brush hair back from his face, thumbing his bottom lip as you answer, “Belle told me she was about a month pregnant. I helped her work up the courage to tell Adam. Oh, he was delighted and kept saying how he wanted many more, especially little girls to read with.”

Gaston hums at this, the rumble from his chest vibrating against your side. “Send them my congratulations. I should build them a bassinet, as a gift.”

You nod in agreement, placing your head on his shoulder. You eye the mostly empty tavern, though your mind is preoccupied. 

“I think I'd like children of my own, Gaston.”


	6. I'll Pass | Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever said anything about kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I found this so hard to write, probably because I can't relate (who can relate? Woo!) Also oog this is short
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it, or don't! Critiques are always welcome

You were so stupid. You should have known not to just drop such a topic onto Gaston. With how much he talked about wanting strapping young boys of his own, he reacted quite differently when you told him you'd like your own children. Granted you two weren't married but still. He'd abruptly stood and led you to your horse before saying he'd see you tomorrow, which you thought was a little dramatic. Then you didn't see him in the morning, nor did you see a gift waiting either. In fact, you didn't see him at all that day. Even when you went to the tavern to drop off your horse. And the next day you were met with the same thing, nothing. Growing desperate, you decided to talk to LeFou and Stanley. 

“Has he said anything to you?” You ask, standing at the couple's door. 

They shared a look of pity with each other. They were surprised when you showed up asking if they'd seen Gaston, but how could they refuse an answer when your hands were wringing nervously and you looked ready to cry or give up. 

“We saw him a couple days ago, he said he was heading out of town for about a week.” LeFou answers.

“But I'm sure it has nothing to do with you!” Stanley adds quickly, trying to quell your fears. 

You appreciate it but you can't help yourself from hiccuping. You take a deep breath, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop tears. 

“Of course.” You laugh bitterly. “Why would I expect any different from Gaston? The thought of me, a woman, wanting anything other than to do what a man wants is just too much for Gaston.”

“Didn’t he want kids?” Stanley asks, looking at LeFou for answers.

“Yes, he did. It was a topic he often brought up with Belle-”

“And me! He talked about having boys with me while he was following me around! I don’t know what changed.” You snap, biting your lip. 

“Maybe you just caught him off guard.” LeFou tries to reassure you. 

You grimace and cross your arms, looking off into the fields that lay next to the couples house. They could be right, maybe you did catch him off guard. But why did that change how he felt about having kids with you? Why did that mean he should stop talking to you and leave town for a week? Your thoughts return to your previous assumption, that Gaston actually _didn't_ want kids with you and he had just been saying those things because he thought that's what every woman wanted to hear. You think back to how he had reacted and your stomach knots. Gaston hadn't even walked you back home, he had just slapped the horses flank and sent you away. 

"Don't cry, please." LeFou murmurs.

You turn to look at him before wiping your cheeks. 

"Oh..." You laugh bitterly. "I didn't even realize."

Stanley and Lefou share a worried look. Stanley reaches out and gently pulls you inside by your hand. You look around as you're led inside toward the living area. You'd never been inside their home, which was cozy and well decorated. After sitting you down Stanley started a fire in the fireplace where a painting of the countryside was hung above. Upon further inspection, you realized it was one of the first paintings you'd made when you'd moved here. 

"Do you remember when I bought that?" LeFou interrupts your train of thoughts by handing you a cup of tea. 

He sits down beside you with his own mug as Stanley stands up to look at it. It had been a week before you had started painting and another week before you set up a small stall in the market and displayed several pieces. It was for publicity, and to hopefully start making money but your art had gotten more attention than you'd initially thought. Most of your work was sold within a couple hours with only the landscape left. You had started to pack it away when LeFou had stopped you and bought it. It had led to a pleasant conversation and a stroll through the town where he introduced you to people and places, including the tavern.

The smile quickly dies on your face when you remember walking into the tavern and meeting Gaston. You clear your throat, looking into your cup.

"I should've waited shouldn't I have?" You whisper.

"No, I think you're timing was fine!" Stanley exclaims, making you jump. "Maybe Gaston is just trying to clear his head? Or prepare himself!" 

You smile before you stand and place your cup on the table. 

"I appreciate your support, but I think I need to be alone." 

As you walk yourself to the door you pause and turn to them.

"Tell Gaston, if he ever comes back, that he knows where he can find me."


End file.
